


Whispers Of Insanity

by TheGoldenCrownedMagpie



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Has Feelings, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Poor Charles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenCrownedMagpie/pseuds/TheGoldenCrownedMagpie
Summary: After Charles Xaviers previously widowed mother dies mysteriously, officials have no choice but to turn the emotionally damaged nine-year-old over to an orphanage.Eric Lehnsherr, the successful engineer who wants to fill the whole his wife left in his heart after she left him, is looking to adopt.





	1. Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Is the Original idea for this story based off a nightmare I had when I was nine? possibly. can you prove it was? no.

Charles Xavier was six years old when he started hearing voices in his head, Three years after that he realized the voices were not coming from his head but everyone else, a few months after that he figured out he could edit the thoughts of those around him.

  
Charles’ mother had never really been very fond of him. When he cried out in pain from the sheer volume of a large crowds thoughts she merely told him to quiet down. Once he had projected words into his mothers head and she had locked him in his room without food or water for two days. When he was tired and responded to peoples thoughts instead of their spoken words he was punished severely. The most common of these punishments were forcing him to clean and do housework. Charles did not like doing housework, that was the maid's job.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Charles Francis Xavier!” his mother called out the very moment the heavy wooden front door clanged shut. The very sound of his mother shouting was enough to send him flying up the stairway and into his bedroom. The lock on his door had long since been removed so he comes to the conclusion that propping a chair up against the doorknob would keep the door held shut, yes, that would probably do, he believed he had seen people do that in the cinema. when he deemed the door safely locked he thought about what to do next, focussing very hard on not projecting his thoughts into his mothers head. He knew he was going to get into big trouble, he had seen the look on his mothers face when she realized that a headache that everyone at the gala was experiencing was her son's fault. Even worse, he had also herd her thoughts when she realized. Charles decided on hiding in his room as long as possible, maybe waiting until his mother had boiled off some of her anger before going downstairs to get some supper.  
He heard his mothers footsteps, and mind, reach his door. Its ok Charles, its ok, she can't get in, its ok Charles thought to himself reassuringly.  
“Oh, I will go into your room whenever i goddamded please Charles!” his mother yelled through the heavyset door. Ugh, thinking to himself was harder than it sounded. He heard the tell-tale noise of a doorknob turning.

  
She can't get in  
She can't get in  
She can't get in  
She can't get in  
She can't get in

  
The door pushed open only buffering slightly when it collided with the chair Charles had so carefully put into place. Charles’ mother's mind was practically radiating anger, so much so that Charles could feel himself absorbing her anger. Charles was so focused on keeping out his mother's unwanted thoughts that he didn't see that she had entered the room until she had slapped him in the face. He could feel the white-hot pain staining his face redder by the minute, but his mother hit him again, and again. His nose had started bleeding judging by the hot, metallic tasting liquid that was running down from his nose to his lips. Between the pain from his face and the volume of his mother's thoughts and emotions, Charles barely noticed anything else. He welcomed it when his eyesight started to get blurry and his thoughts got all fuzzy, and he welcomed the ground as he fell to the floor.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning he woke up on his bed with his pillows all made up underneath him. Charles assumed one of the servants had taken pity on him again and set him in his bed, a deed that would almost sertntly get the poor servant punished for their actions. He slipped off of his bed and down the hall into the kitchen his mother rarely ever could be found in, but his mother was there leaning against the countertop in a fancy black dress staring him down as if she had been waiting for him, which she probably was, as Charles could think of no other reason for his mother to be in the kitchen.

  
“I want every window in the sunroom spotless do you understand me Charles?” his mother said, looking him in the eye in a way that Charles recognized meant she had been drinking.

  
“Yes mother,” Charles responded, but before Charles had even finished speaking his mother was turning to leave.

  
“Oh and Charles,” his mother sent from the doorway, “ if you ever do anything like what you did yesterday again I swear to god I will sell you and tell the media you committed suicide”

  
Halfway through wiping down the third window, he heard his mother enter the room. She strolled over the wear he was cleaning and admired his work.  
“You missed a spot.” she cooed, using the same voice she always uses when she's pretending to be nice. Charles glanced back at his work, the window she was referring to was entirely and utterly spotless.

“Mother i-” but he was cut off by the sound of his mother pouring the glass of red wine she had in her hand down the newly cleaned windows. Rage suddenly filled Charles so much that he imagined in he was in a cartoon steam would be coming out his ears. Rage at his mother hitting him, something a good mother would never do, rage at his mother punishing him for something he didn't ask for and never wanted, rage at his mother for never being there for him when his father had died, rage at his mother for using him as a ploy to gain more popularity, rage that she thought she could get rid of his ‘telepathy problem’ just by yelling at him. Rage that he had to clean the stupid windows. His mother should half to clean the stupid windows not him. Charles stormed past his mother and out of the room tears streaming slowly down his face. Charles plopped himself down on the absurdly expensive couch he wasn't really allowed to be on, and sobbed, secretly hoping that his tears would stain the delicate fabric of the cushions.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Charles.” said a voice Charles recognized as lucy, who was his mother's personal servant.

  
“Go away lucy I'm not really in the mood,” Charles said, looking up at her with tear stained cheeks the were puffy from crying to prove his point.

  
“Charles it's your mother.”

  
“Whats… what's wrong with my mother?”

  
“Well I have no authority on the topic so it's not really but, its, you see, your mother...” Lucy stammered

  
“For god sakes, lucy spit it out!”

  
The servant composed herself for a moment before saying “It appears as if she's gone absolutely mad!”


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. IM SO SORRY CHARLES YOUR JUST A LITTLE BABY  
> 2\. The Next chapter has Erick I swear  
> 3\. I was gonna say feel free to call me out on any spelling mistakes but that gives me anxiety so no actually don't do that

Before the servant had finished the word mad Charles was sprinting through down the hallway. Had he done this to his mother? It was entirely possible, after all, Charles seemed to discover something new about his mutation every day, especially during times of stress. But Charles didn't mean to hurt his mother, surely the maid was exaggerating. As Charles was running to go to his mother he skimmed lightly over her mind to make sure everything was alright. Everything was most certainly not alright. His mother's mind had always felt violent, if a bit timid, it reminded him of a light rainstorm. Now his mother mind seemed to have been torn to pieces, something Charles most certainly not capable of, right? When he entered the sunroom where he had left his mother he almost fell to his knees in surprise. His mother was cleaning. Sharon Xavier who Charles had previously suspected didn't know what a sponge was, was scrubbing the windows.

  
Charles approached his mother slowly, “mother is everything alright?” Charles said in the most innocent voice he could manage. Then his mother gave him the nastiest smile Charles had ever seen, a smile that belonged locked away somewhere in a mental asylum.

  
“Bats and bologna, whales and toenails.” his mother said in an early not-quite-there voice that matched perfectly with her smile. good god. The servants weren't lying, his mother had gone insane. charles made the split decision to delve deeper into his mother's mind, to figure out what had happened to her, you did this to her said a small voice in the back of Charles’ head, he shook that voice off. After Charles had dug past the layers upon layer of meaningless words that felt strange in his mother's mind, Charles came across a pocket of her mind untouched by the chaos the spread elsewhere, and in that pocket Charles found hate, burning firey hatred.

  
Hatred for the boy whos deformity made the media question her status as a ‘perfect mother’. Hatred for the boy who caused her headache after headache. Hatred at her husband for dying. Hatred for a boy who refused to just turn off his condition. Charles, however, found his mother had no hatred towards his son, as to Sharon Xavier she did not have a son. Charles was merely someone she was forced to share her home and belongings with, and if there was one thing Sharon Xavier hated more than cleaning, it was sharing.

  
Charles was suddenly was being mentally bombarded by his mother's unpleasant feelings towards him.

  
He wanted it to **_stop._** He wanted everything to ** _stop._** he wanted the muddled chaotic thoughts in his mother head to **_go away._** he wanted his mother to care about him as a son, but now, more strongly after hearing his mother's genuine opinion on him, Charles Xavier wanted his mother to **_die._**

  
Charles wanted his mother to die not like that of a merciless assassin but like that of how a toddler throws a temper tantrum after not getting the toy he wanted. Charles Xavier had had many fantasies about going off to live with one of his servants, who were more or less accepting of his gifts. Charles though had never truly wanted his mother to die, he merely wanted to be accepted, his still-developing mutation didn't know that.

  
When Charles Xavier saw his mothers form crumple to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he knew exactly what had happened. When he felt her mind shut down like a flip had been switched he knew precisely what he had done. That didn't mean he accepted it, Charles wrapped his arms around his mother, trying to ignore that her body was perfectly still and unmoving.

  
Charles only let go of his mother when he felt dozens of minds rushing up to the mansion. There were police officers, an ambulance, there was even a reporter or two. He ran up the stairs to try and calm the cacophony of voices running through his head. Charles promised himself he wasn't going to hurt anyone else, that his powers weren't going to hurt anybody else. He entered his father's old study and instantly recognized the bottle of suppressor pills his father had kept on his desk for him. Charles had considered taking them before whenever his mother gave him any particularly harsh punishments, but he had never actually taken them.

“Now Charlie,” he remembered his father saying, “if something nasty ever happens with your gift and I'm not around, I want you to take these pills ok?” Brian Xavier had been the only person to ever refer to his mutation as a gift.

  
Charles took the large bottle into his hand, there were easily enough pills to last a few months, and with that Charles took off to meet the police officers already filing into the sunroom.

 

 


End file.
